


The Song and The Silence

by idiotstolovers



Category: Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms, Tomb Raider (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Character building, F/M, Introspection, Might become a series, Rise of the Tomb Raider, goddamn those two, pine tea and pining, rotr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27089839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotstolovers/pseuds/idiotstolovers
Summary: Jacob knows his duty lies with his people, not a woman that saved his life once.And still.As she is drowning in a river of ice, he is the first to admit that he has never been the smartest of men.But faith. Faith he has plenty.
Relationships: Lara Croft/Jacob (Tomb Raider)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	The Song and The Silence

**Author's Note:**

> So I replayed ROTR and I fell down the rabbit hole again. God, these two. I shook this out in an hour, and this ~might ~ become a series, but I make no promises.  
> This is not a song fic, but I was listening to Giants by Dermot Kennedy, and if something fits, I sits.

_I knew from the start_   
_You'd be the one to set me free_

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of dark hair disappearing under crashing waves, followed seconds later by the falling power pole, buried in its wake.  
  
Jacob swallowed a shout as he ducked behind a boulder, catching his breath.  
Inadvertently, Lara ’s quick and nimble escape down the cables had been drawing Trinity’s attention, allowing him to slip away.  
  
Quickly he glanced over his cover, trying to find a glance of her beneath the waters, but found nothing. He ought to go, ought to leave her to her fate, even if it was cruel. He’d been gone for days, stuck in Constantine’s prison, and he knew his people needed him. Within minutes of careful treading he would be hidden beneath the canopy of trees, on his way to his village, his people, his duty.  
 _If_ she was alive somehow and _not_ torn to pieces by debris or rocks, he might be able to save her, but it would cost him time that he owed to his people and holy purpose. It grieved him, but she ’d be one in a line of thousands of sacrifices he had had to make in the millennium he had walked this earth.  
  
A sharp whistling announced more rockets, followed by subdued explosions and a splash of water bursting through its surface. Jacob ducked back into cover, and a moment later the helicopter ’s droning sound got louder as it flew over him, back to the Gulag base, apparently satisfied in their purpose of killing her.  
And rightly so, in all probability. He’d seen her fight, and her very presence in the valley suggested she was capable, sturdy, athletic and lucky as well, but it would need more than luck to survive this.  
 _  
It would need the grace of God._

Jacob sighed heavily as he peeked over the boulder, checking whether or not the air was clear, before jumping over it and sliding down the hillside. The argument was over in his head before it had properly started; he was a rational man, but he was also a believer, and while his mind told him his duty lay elsewhere, his heart told him to believe in the notion he had felt when he had first seen her: that she was change.  
  
He headed to the edge of the riverbank, but could not see any movement or sign of her amongst the depths. Jacob was not surprised — the fall and the cold ought to have knocked her unconscious, if they had not killed her outright. He shrugged out of his coat and dove into the water, his muscles contracting sharply against the icy cold. With swift strokes he swam down and ahead, looking for her in the dark, dim, disturbed waters.  
  
 _Guide me.  
  
_ Drawing on his faith, he looked around, and there, to the right and below him, she was. Miraculously intact, not surrounded by a cloud of blood. In a few strokes he was by her side, shaking her slightly, but her eyes remained closed, her body unresponsive. Deftly he wrapped an arm around her and made way for the surface, his lungs slowly starting to burn. After a few moments that felt like eternity — not for him, but _to_ him, _for_ her — they finally broke through the surface.  
With effort he heaved her out of the water, hoisting himself after her. Hastily his fingers found the pulse point at her throat, barely stopping there to find a weak thrum, and sliding further to extend her neck back and clear her throat.Jacob had lost count how many times he had saved people from drowning, the movements were second nature. Not all lips had been as cold as hers though, and it worried him greatly. It was equally luck and misfortune that she was wearing nothing but a shirt — a jacket or cloak would surely have dragged her into the depths past his reach, but without such protection her body temperature was already dangerously low even before she had dropped into the icy river.

Maybe a little challenge might help her find the conviction. He pressed harder, feeling a rip crack under the heel of his hand. Regrettable, but she would be none the wiser, _if_ she woke up.  
  
“Come on. Look at how far you’ve come…”, in wry sense of doom, he thought that she might return to life simply out of stubborn will. She had seemed the type. He leaned down again, giving her air, heat, hopefully life. _One, two, three_ …  
  
And then, finally, a gasp, a cough, the river spewing forth from her lungs. Her body convulsed briefly in the effort to expel the water from it, and he slid his arm under her shoulders to support her. For a moment, a pained groan escaped her, her eyelids fluttered, before she slipped back into unconsciousness. Her lips were blue, her skin white and ashen, but at least she was breathing and shivering. If he could get her to a shelter and a fire quick enough, she would live.  
A small, relieved chuckle escaped him as he lifted her up, grateful for her slight frame and his slightly supernatural constitution. He sat her down on top of his coat, fighting a little to get her arms into the sleeves and wrapping her body in it to shield it against the biting winds— winds that felt even to him like sharp knives against his soaked body.  
Jacob gently lifted her in his arms and turned around, making his way carefully along the icy riverbank. The closest shelter would be the cave near the old sawmill; if God was willing, he would encounter Nikolaj or one of the other scouts. Konstantin had asked him about sabotage and skirmishes down in the valley, that some Remnant were held to be questioned below the old train yard, threatening him with killing them. If they were indeed there, he would not have to abandon his duty completely to save Lara. At least he could strategize and lead while he healed her, maybe even send word to Sofia.

The way was not long, but treacherous, and with the added weight took longer than usual. Eventually, he finally caught sight of the ruined roof of the sawmill. Climbing the frozen brook, he finally found some of his people, who were notably relieved at his sight, and visibly confused that he was cradling a foreign woman and fervently rubbing her arms — until they saw the colour of her face.  
With a few quick commands and traded infos, Jacob enlisted the help of two of his men to lift Lara up the steep cliff unto the ledge and finally into the sheltered cave. Quickly, a fire was started, and he sent his men out, one to report to the others, one to gather supplies.  
  
He gathered cloth and a tattered carpet to make her more comfortable, preparing a bed for her next to the hearth, hanging one blanket over the stove to warm. Methodically, he removed her wet shirt, pants and shoes, leaving her small-clothes to preserve her dignity, and hanging the rest to dry over the hearth. Kneeling next to her, Jacob pulled a pouch out of his pocket, and gathered some of the powder in his hands. Muttering the familiar words, he worked the herbs into her arms, shoulders, abdomen and legs, paying extra time to heal the rib he had broken earlier.

 _The Lord is your guardian, your protective shade at your right hand_ _…_  
  
Where his hands worked, her skin regained its peachy hue, now almost warm to the touch. Finally his fingers returned to her throat, satisfied to now find a steady beat there.  
Jacob stood and stretched, himself still drenched and shivering. He retrieved the blanket from the stove and covered Lara with the warm fabric, then gently toweled her hair dry with some cloth. .  
  
While he was stoking the fire, Ruslan returned with firewood, some dried boar meat, a freshly caught rabbit, and the herbs he had requested. They talked briefly, both catching the other up on the happenings of the past days.  
  
“Will you go to the village and organize the defense?” Ruslan asked, glancing down at Lara’s huddled form by the fire, questions clear in his eyes.  
  
“As soon as she is awake, and I had a chance to talk to her. She freed me from the Gulag, she is an ally to our cause.” _Or, at least I hope she will be._ _“_ Spread the word that she is to be helped, not harmed. ”  
  
Ruslan nodded, and left shortly afterwards. Jacob’s worries were eased a little, now that he knew of the situation— not as hopeful as he had wished, not as dire as he had feared— and that he had regained a small bit of control.  
  
He busied himself with a kettle, gathered and melted snow, boiled tea out of the herbs he had requested, in the mean time trying to dry himself of best as he could. While he was shivering, he refrained from stripping out of his wet clothes because he did not want to make Lara uncomfortable. It was unlikely she would wake up soon, but he did not want her to mistrust him because she woke up to find he had undressed both of them. No, freezing was better; it would not kill him.

When the tea was done and sufficiently cooled down to be drinkable, he gently lifted her upper body up, supporting her head sideways against his shoulder so she could not choke, and slowly, patiently dribbled the tea into her mouth. A good portion of the tea drenched both of them, but it was warm and did little harm, and she drank sufficiently. He dabbed the spilled tea up and bundled her up again after checking her temperature again. _Warmer and warmer._  
Sipping his own cup of tea, he settled near the fire, trying to soak up the warmth. While he ate some dried meat to get his empty stomach warmed up to the idea of food, his mind wandered over the events of the last days, and not lastly, the woman that lay before him and the enigma she presented.

Jacob had heard her minutes before Konstantin and her had appeared in sight, screaming and cursing him, Ana, Trinity, spewing threats and insults, and as they rounded the corner, he could see, physically putting up as much of a fight as she could.  
 _  
There's no_ us _. I don't even know who you are, or why you're here. Sorry... I'm not feeling particularly trusting right now.  
  
_ Now that they were out of there, the memory almost made him chuckle. Jacob did not know what had transpired outside of his cell, but the fresh, personal _hurt_ that was radiating off of her was almost palpable in the air. She snapped at him, which was not especially surprising giving he was a stranger in an adjacent cell that she had just been thrown into, but then, immediately, the fire of her fury was tempered by guilt, and it seemed she could not stop herself from apologizing.Then, in a flash, while he was still trying to get her measure and trust, she had ripped a pipe out of the wall, clawed her way through a wall, ripped the bars open and was out of the cell.  
Of course he had known what she was here for— most of the foreigners that stepped in this valley were here for that.  
  
 _We_ _may not be enemies. I can see that. I suspect you do too._

It was almost comedic, how fast she relented, how hard she had tried to shut him out. He had watched her back, the wish to make herself hard and strong warring with her wish to find answers. Of course, he could not be sure of her true motives, but of all the people he had met, Jacob had his fair experience in seeing people for who they were.  
What he saw was an ally, not an enemy. What he saw was a determined woman on an almost desperate quest — but a quest not for her sake. What he saw was a light that some people, few amongst so many, carried within them. What he saw was a strong heart, struggling to be good, and a spirit that was confused as to what being good meant, and what it would cost.  
There used to be a time, centuries ago, where the same could be said for him. Jacob ’s heart ached for her fight. He knew it all too well. And he knew all too well the foolish mistakes that might come out of such aspirations, if left without guidance.  
He wondered what she could become if she had the guidance that he had lacked. Wondered, if he had had the same, his mistakes would have been different ones.  
  


By then a deep fatigue gripped his body. His stamina was better than most people’s, another advantage of his gifts, but even he had to rest, and now that he had stopped running, the last days caught up with him.  
With a groan he stood slowly, and grabbed her now dry clothes. Gently and slowly he dressed her again, providing her with as much warmth as he could, before he made a bed for himself. Rationally, it would be best to share the blankets, to keep close and save and share the heat, but there was a conversation to be had, and he had to tread carefully. She came from a different world than he.  
So he made his bed a respectable distance away, still close enough to the hearth so both would be warm. He did not know what fate awaited his people, but for now, he did know that Lara would live, and he had learned to take the small victories as they came.

Jacob stoked the fire one last time, and then allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

_Will you remember those times  
That I have held until tonight _


End file.
